Friday Catblog: mehitabel meets her mate

I don't think they're actually going to produce any kittens this season (at least I hope not -- but then, Mom hasn't yet arranged to prevent the possibility). However, seeing rough-and-tumble Furfur and full-of-attitude Maus so cozy together on this little table made me think of this bit of classic verse:

mehitabel meets her mate

tis the right of a modern tabby to choose
the cats who shall father her kits
and its nice to be sure their pasts have been pure
and theyre free from fleas or fits

trial marriage i tried till i thoroughly tired
and i suffered somewhat from abduction
and my heart it was broken again and again
but twas excellent instruction

i always have been rather awesomely blest
with the instincts of a mother
and my life and my fate have been down to date
one kitten after another

triplets quadruplets quintuplets
in a most confusing succession
and it seems to keep up whether times are good
or wallowing in depression

and this is in spite of the terrible fact
i am not a real home body
but an artiste who views the domestic career
as damnably dull and shoddy

for i am a lady who has her whims
no tom cat holds my love
if i come to feel i have plighted my troth
to a little mauve turtle dove

but at last i have found my real romance
through the process of trial and error
and he is a ribald brute named bill
one eyed and a holy terror

his skull is ditched from a hundred fights
and he has little hair on his tail
but the son of a gun of a brindled hun
is indubitably male

over the fences we frolic and prance
under the blood red moon
and we sing to the stars we are venus and mars
as we caper and clutch and croon

his good eye gleams like a coal of hell
from the murk of alley or yard
and the heart that jumps in the cage of his ribs
is hot and black and hard

says he as we rocket over the roofs
can you follow your limber bill
says i to him my demon slim
theres a dance in the old dame still

you pussies that purr on a persian rug
or mew to some fool for cream
little you know of the wild delight
of the outlaws midnight dream

a fish head filched from a garbage can
or a milk bottle raided at dawn
is better than safety and slavery
you punks that cuddle and fawn

you can stuff your bellies with oysters and shrimp
you may have your ribbon and bell
for bill and me it is liberty
o wotthehell bill wotthehell

says he to me old battle axe
you never was raised a pet
says i to willie i aint any lily
but theres pep in the old dame yet

last night when a bull pup gave us chase
bill turned and ripped of his claw
completely unseaming that slavering mutt
from his chine to his bloody jaw

we dance with the breeze of the summer nights
we dance with the winter sleet
with velvet paws on the velvet shadows
or whirl with frozen feet

we riot over the roof of the world
mehitabel and bill
you son of a gun of a brindled hun
theres a dance in the old dame still


from: archy does his part, by don marquis
doubleday, doran & company, inc 1935


Don't forget to visit Modulator, for Friday Ark #112, and, come Sunday evening, please visit Whole Kitten Kaboodle for this week's Carnival of the Cats #137. Maybe you'll spot mehitabel and bill.